Learn to Fly
by closemyeyes
Summary: Dean's sick with Cancer, he is going to die. Sam is his friend Not brother who's trying to be there for him, but that is easier said than done.. I'm sorry for the poor descriptions and raw grammar, I'm trying my best, I'm not a native English speaker :
1. Chapter 1

When Dean returned to the hospital it was due to the sever pain drilling inside his head. He experienced hard time keeping his balance and sometimes words would unexpectedly scramble his speech. The reoccurring weird colors which tended to appear whenever he was tired, gave him quite a fright. It was never there before and their sudden appearance felt intimidating.

Ben, who's been in close contact with Dean made sure to call at least twice a day even if only to ask how he's doing. He was also first to volunteer with helping him get to the hospital for his appointment to get checked. He knew if he didn't, Dean would definitely not go, out of own free will.

"I don't like the sound of that" Ben expressed his worries concerning his friend over the phone. "You are not supposed to be seeing lights and shapes out of no where".

That left Dean caught in the middle. What was he supposed to tell his young friend? _'I've got cancer what can I do'_? Even that sounded lame. Why couldn't he come up with something wittier? It somehow seemed like it was the only fair excuse in spite of the fact it sounded sucked right out of his thumb.

The truth was that this was all part of the cancer's effect taking over the young scared Texan boy who felt intimidated by the thought he would have to go back to the hospital on his own.

Ben suggested driving him over but it was Sam who showed up instead.

The car ride was too long and too uncomfortable than either had imagined. Dean didn't remember the last time he felt so trapped inside his own car, anxious to get the ride part over with, wishing to escape if only to find his peace and quiet in his very own bedroom, strumming the guitar or just staring outside. That's what he's been doing for the past few weeks, ever since things took a turn for the worse and from that point kept going in one direction only, down.

Sam didn't feel any better. He felt uneasy around Dean, not sure what to say or how to behave. What could you possibly say under these circumstances?

None of it made sense, at all. None of it seemed real. They were best of friends, knew each other since early days of junior high. The young boys went through detentions together, double dates, first love, first crush, hiking, camping, wild parties, football seasons, fantasies and dreams…. As if born brothers, they were inseparable… until the day Sam got accepted to Stanford.

Currently a sophomore, Sam usually returned home only for the holidays. This was exactly why Dean thought his mind was playing tricks on him, as the door swung open and there he was, tall as ever, with the all too familiar never-ending smile and untamed hair. The boys hugged tight.

Maybe he should tell Dean about the new trip idea, Jess and him thought of just the other week. Europe was great this time of year, maybe rafting the fjords in Norway and do a cross Scandinavia trip in one car, just Jess, Ben, Dean and himself.

Then Sam suddenly realized he couldn't. Dean might not be able to participate in a trip of this kind or worse… what if Dean won't be alive by then? What if their last trip last summer was indeed Dean's last trip?

_Were they going to replace him_? Sam had to wonder. No, they wouldn't. He couldn't imagine driving coast to coast without fighting over what CD's and which tape cassettes, or boarding a plane without his phobic friend in the next seat switching colors before the terrible shakes took over.

_Ok next topic_, Sam thought to himself.

But there was no room for other topics. The song on the radio took over and with it swept both boys into their own dream world…

_"__All alone I came into this world  
All alone I will someday die  
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby  
Sand and water, and a million years gone by…"_

Sam reached over and switched off the radio. Those words might be too hard on his friend who seemed to be interested only in looking outside his window at the street, through his dark shades.

_'Funny'_, Sam thought to himself. If anything characterized Dean, it was those sarcastic pearls of wisdom of his, people didn't always find funny or appreciated.

He'd be so full of it that there were times Sam wished or begged Dean to keep his mouth shut. Right now, this very moment, he wished to hear his friend's voice, even a silent sigh would definitely do.

However, the world never seemed darker to Dean than how it did right now.

By now he had lost all hope, had given up all his dreams. The only thing on his agenda as of now was to wait for this disease to consume him on the inside until the last breath parted his lips.

His own body betrayed him by trading life for a ticking bomb.

Dean, for a while now, accepted the fact he was going to die. Nothing, no one in the world could stop that from happening. No one.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I don't understand what you expect me to tell you" the doctor stuck a puzzled look back at hopeful Dean who 2 short hours later found himself seated on an hospital bed waiting to hear what the doctor had to say. The doctor stood tall in front of Dean, and Sam who stood by his friend's side hardly able to keep calm. They both looked like someone sucked the life out of them.

"You have a brain tumor, cancer. You do understand what I am speaking, don't you"?

"He's got cancer, he's not mentally retarded" Sam felt the need to talk back to protect his friend's dignity.

Dean appreciated Sam's support. All he managed to do was stare back at the man who faced him with a chart in his hands. The same one who mercilessly continued his speech of stating dry facts about how further the cancer spread, what other side effects he can expect and what the terminal stage is going to be like.

"Can't you do something"? Dean finally found his way back to words after sitting in the dark for 10 measly minutes which to him seemed like eternity, "Am I supposed to just sit back at home and await my death? Others have treatments and tests. Why can't I be treated"?

But the answers were obvious to him as obvious as they were to the doctor himself.

He knew well enough that when it comes to terminal diseases of this kind, at this stage, there are no chances of survival, whether Chemotherapy is administrated or not.

"I am sorry mister…veinshest…"

"Win" Dean countered angrily "That's Wintse.. Wintshe… Winchester".

The doctor watched the young man in front of him bend and fold as if someone punched him in the stomach. Dean grabbed his head with both hands trying to help the thoughts clear inside his head. He could say his name couldn't he? He has to remember how to say his name, he's been saying it for over 29 years now. Say your family name! That voice inside his head ordered. What's the matter boy? Can't speak your own name?

"Calm down" Sam's hand comforted his shoulder "Don't get excited over this, it's ok" then turned to the doctor "that would be Winchester, Dean Winchester" said in his exquisite Texas free accent English, "look, we know about his condition. Can't you recommend someone? A specialist who could maybe give a third opinion? You surely can't tell me this is how it's going to end. He's 29 years old. You've got such advanced technology, massive institutions working on solutions everywhere. Obviously you can do something, someone just HAS do something about it. Maybe you don't want to tell the truth? If this regards money you needn't worry, I'll pay any amount requested. Just name the price!"

"And you are"? The doctor answered pretentiously "Mr…." he just realized he didn't know Sam's name at all "Winchester's dear friend, with all due respect, you are not part of the family, may I remind you we only allow relatives of first degree enter here".

While Sam and the doctor fought their own battlefield diplomacies Dean felt his insides getting weaker and weaker. Suddenly he dreaded the tears would appear in his eyes. He didn't want to cry. He wasn't a child craving to hold his mommy's hand and ask her to make it all go away by pressing his head against her chest. He couldn't cry. He mustn't cry. Not in a public hospital where everybody could see him.

Behind the doctor, a little girl sat on the huge hospital bed. Much like Dean, she sat on its edge, looking uneasy. Her body seemed tired, slumped on the big bed weakly.

She tried to smile, but Dean stared back blankly. She wore a puffy purple coat and its hood covered her head. The smile faded and now her big brown eyes stared back at him. He knew she must be a patient if she's in this ward, and only then realized what that actually meant.

As he brushed his fingers through his short hair his eyes couldn't resist the temptation, he looked back. She imitated him precisely, brushed her hand over her head just like he did, only her fingers accidentally pushed off the hood. Dean's felt his chest tight… she was completely bald.

She has cancer? The loveable little girl with a dimple on each cheek, the exact ones which appeared right now as she smiled at him, was sick with cancer?

Dean couldn't bring himself to move. But she smiled back then waved her little fingers at him. His eyes looked straight into hers, chestnut brown, so big and so round.

A grown up picked her up. Who was it, he couldn't see. The only thing he could see aside to Sam and the doctor still babbling barely a foot away, and people around moaning and fussing was the little girl peaking at him over her father's shoulder while carried away.

"I have to go" she cheerfully squeaked at him "back to the house at pooh corner by 1"!

His eyes blinked once again. When he reopened them she was gone, as if she was never there. She was barely 5 years old.

"You're blood count is almost under average" the doctor added then addressed his look at Dean "are you with me young man"?

His eyes were still fixed on the door, but his head nodded "yes".

"I can't do anything for you" he heard words coldly stated "but I'd like you to stay for a short while to get transfused. We can give you a couple of units and you can go home afterwards".

Sam watched his friend absentmindedly nod his head, his eyes glued to the door.

He looked over but nobody was there.

But Dean could hear. The door was shut, no one came in or out. Everything seemed to fall into silence… all but the sound of a cheerful laughter, refreshing laughter, a child's laughter…


End file.
